


A Judgement

by Hedge_witch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, References to Mutilation, Robert's Rebellion, Siege of Storm's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedge_witch/pseuds/Hedge_witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece exploring how Davos lost his fingers and gained a title in return. Set after the lifting of the siege of Storm's End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> So because Team Dragonstone is taking over my life at the moment and I am a sucker for backstory I decided to write this. It contains references to mutilation and could be vaguely slashy in a slightly disturbing way if you're inclined to look for it (which I usually am).

For the first time in many months the gates of Storm’s End stood open. With the bright tents spilling out from beyond the outer walls under the weak morning sunlight,it almost presented a cheerful prospect. That was until you walked among the tents, through the mud, curdled by men and horses. There, even the battle-weary troops who had arrived in Lord Stark’s train tiptoed around the emaciated remains of the castle’s garrison, who sat listless in the sun, scarce believing in its warmth after so many months of darkness. As for the others, while they waited for the lords high in the keep, to divide this small portion of the war’s spoils, they passed their time in drinking, gambling and, most frequently, in telling stories. 

These tales had become wilder and wilder as the days passed. They said that Stannis Baratheon had not slept throughout the long months of siege, that he could read the souls of men and was implacable in their judgement. They spoke of how the northmen under Lord Stark had turned themselves into wolves before the battle and had fallen on their foes with teeth and claws. Among the remaining men of the garrison, however, the most popular subject was that of the ghost ship and its captain, a smuggler and a sorcerer, who had turned himself and his crew invisible and brought the wind and tides under his command in order to bring relief to the starving soldiers within the keep. 

Davos Seaworth listened to these tales with amusement, and occasionally walked openly through the camp to accept the ragged cheers and offers of drink that they garnered him. On this morning he walked through the canvas walls of this makeshift town alone and cowled. Tales grew in the telling, and in the chaos of wars’ end, where even the simple division of open friend or foe disappeared the fog of rumour and counter-rumour could ensure that a man did not receive his just deserts. 

Davos had learnt this lesson a long time ago. Now, he was counting on it. 

The men in the tents might toast him, in spite, or because of his smuggler’s past, but the men in the castle were the ones who decided which of the tales that eddied around the battlefield were true, and it was likely that they loved him not. One man in particular, was unlikely to forgive or forget. 

As the air grew heavy with the sea and the tents began to peter out, Davos acquired a companion, a sturdy weatherbeaten man who towered over him, but who had a certain air of deference about him nonetheless. They walked leisurely for a while, two soldiers enjoying their idleness, only stopping when they were out of earshot of the camp. 

“Captain,” the older man greeted Davos formally, his gait shifting to counteract the motion of a ship that wasn’t there.

“Stefan,” Davos replied, clapping his first mate on the shoulder. “how goes the thankless task of keeping the crew from drinking this place dry?”

Stefan chuckled, “Better than you might imagine, over the past day or two at least. They’re pulling back on their own account sir, they’ve got good noses, to a man, and they can scent a strong following wind behind us.”

Davos nodded. “Good, they’ll be quicker to move when the time comes. We have lingered here long enough. I think we should take our leave before morning. We came in through the dark, and we shall leave the same way. Will it be possible to muster the crew in time?”

Stefan snorted, “Before, most likely. All are present about the camp. I managed to winkle Micken out of guard duty up at the castle, so we are free to leave on your word.”

Davos hissed through his teeth. “Damn, that might have been noticed.”

Stefan looked quizzically at him. “Surely one guard’s much the same as another to these high lords. You think that they’ll notice he’s been replaced?”

“Most wouldn’t, but Lord Stannis is a different type of vessel entirely.” 

Stefan’s brow furrowed, “You fear him, I’ve never seen you in fear of a lord before.”

“Most lords wouldn’t notice us leave, the cleverer ones who did would try to keep us on retainer or, if they were more honest, would let us go anyway to spare them the bother of deciding what to do with us. Lord Stannis won’t do that, and he wouldn’t do it if he were as low-born as you or I.” 

“Do you think we should wait?”

“I think we have waited too long already, carry on with preparations for tonight, but keep a weather-eye on movements in the castle. You go on first, I’ll follow on in a bit and I’ll find you later this evening. All of you stay in the camp, on no account must you go near Bertha.”

“Teach your grandmother...” Stefan grumbled, clapping Davos on the back and meandering back to the camp. 

Davos took a long gulp of air and fretted at not being away. 

***

Davos had cause to be grateful that he had sent Stefan on his way, when he walked back into the camp to find men from the castle awaiting him. 

They wore the arms of House Baratheon, but on one man they gaped and hung twisted about his frail form, a sure sign that was a surviving member of the garrison. Though they both accosted Davos politely but firmly, this man spared him a look of compassion that chilled Davos to the bone. 

They led him back into the castle, through bustling corridors and quiet staircases until they came to a halt outside a sturdy, unassuming door. Davos felt his breath ebb as the sea receded from sight. It returned with a rush as they stopped and he caught sight of it again, this time, ominously, from above. 

The sun passed the midday mark as they dawdled outside, from within, voices could be heard murmuring, too low for their words to be audible. 

Presently, the door opened and a young, grim-faced man emerged, with three other knights in tow. He spared Davos a curious grey-eyed glance, before engaging one of his companions in a low conversation, conducted in some strange northern dialect. 

It was something, Davos reflected wryly, when one regretted the departure of a Stark of Winterfell for the softening influence he might exercise. Evidently the guards thought likewise, for they hastened to follow him when Lord Stannis dismissed them from the room, leaving him and Davos as its sole occupants. 

As expected Lord Stannis’ chambers were spare and rather draughty. The man himself sat at a desk, worn with age and ill-use. Davos was struck by the contrast between him and Stark, for though the latter was a little older and marked by grief, he still had an air of youthfulness about him. Stannis on the other hand was all bones and shadow, honed by hunger and fatigue into something eerily reminiscent of the woodcuts the smallfolk sometimes possessed, depicting the cowled Stranger. As the two men studied each other Davos came to the grim conclusion that Stannis would prove equally impossible to bargain with. 

“Lord Commander,” Davos greeted Stannis Baratheon with his military title, having no desire to dip his toe into the whirling maelstrom of competing status and precedence that characterised civilian life. 

“Davos Seaworth,” he replied, then paused, “if that is indeed your real name, it seems suspiciously appropriate.”

Davos shrugged, “It was given to me.”

“But not, I think, by your parents.”

“It would be curious to accept a name from those whom I never knew.” 

“Why? Most of us have to, but then, you do seem to think yourself above the laws of this land.”

Davos noted that he did not refer to the ‘king’s law’ as was common practice, a reflexive gesture even a time of rebellion, and wondered what that meant. 

“On the contrary,” he replied. “I was born far beneath their notice and therefore their protection, and since, I have spent most of my life at sea, evading the laws of many lands one day, and frequently trading with their supposed enforcers the next.” 

Stannis’ posture stiffened further, “Not with my men.”

“No, nor with the men of the Night’s Watch either, though these were the sole exceptions.”

“Then all the others were men entirely without merit.”

“They were men at sea.”

Stannis snorted, “Does the sea shake this keep? Did it shake you? I am surprised you are so silent on your recent exploits, you must know that you are the sole reason we managed to hold out until relief came. Do you not think your actions worthy?”

“Worthy they may have been, but you do not need me to tell you of them, you met us in the harbour as soon as we arrived. I think you were the only force holding them back from tearing my ship apart to get at its cargo. Nevertheless, I believe you made your mind up about my fate a long time ago.”

‘You do not think I am capable of taking your actions into account?”

“I think you are capable of doing so, and having me executed all the same.” 

Stannis smiled grimly, “Good, then you will answer me honestly, without fear or favour. I cannot understand why you did it. Why risk so much to relieve my garrison? You can have no general loyalty to our cause, unless it is to profit from the confusion of war, but a smuggler is half a trader in that he prospers best in times of peace, when men grow sluggish. You certainly don’t have any particular loyalty to me. I have harried you at every opportunity I have received, and I would do so again. You readily confess to having no expectations of profiting from me due to your actions. You seem a simple man, but I cannot fathom your mind. Explain to me why you saved us.”

Davos frowned. “I cannot give you a single answer to satisfy you, as it was not done by me alone. I took only the crew who would come willingly, any others would have been a burden and a threat. Some are indeed Baratheon men, the recent years of Targaryen misrule have caused much suffering among the poor. I am an exception among my men for my isolation, most of my kind have families like other folk. Some have kin in this very garrison. As for the rest, many just wanted to see if we could do it, to pit ourselves against the Redwyne blockade. There is equal thirst for renown among pirates and smugglers as there is among knights and lords...”

Stannis studied the papers beneath his hands as Davos spoke, but it was plain that every word was being weighed. Eventually he looked up and asked the question that was evidently the culmination of the interrogation. 

“But what of your reasons Davos Seaworth? You planned and executed your little adventure, what led you to conceive it?”

“Do you remember a merchant you hanged two years ago?”

Stannis raised his eyebrow. “I hang a surprising number of ‘merchants’, coincidentally, their number is equal to that of the pirates I have executed.”

‘He sailed in with a cargo of Tyroshi silks, but he had only brought them from King’s Landing. We had stored them there, ready to sell them on, when he decided to help himself. I think he expected to be praised for it, after all, it isn’t stealing when the wares belong to smugglers is it? When he sailed here we followed him, it was the first time I scouted out the approach, I remember charting it in my head. Anywhere else he would have got away with it, but he made the mistake of coming here and boasting of his exploits. Worse, he repeated them to you when you called him before you, he evidently was not aware of your reputation. I will always remember the way you looked him in the eyes and said, ‘a thief is a thief.’ 

Stannis frowned, “So it was purely because of that?”

“It was because of what it meant. All my life the law has been a stranger, if not an enemy to me, another weapon that is used by the strong against the weak. I have held myself outside it, scorning both its wrath and its aid. I had never felt justice being done on my behalf until that day.”

Davos paused, surprised at his own vehemence. He had not realised how deeply that episode had impressed him. Stannis too, seemed surprised, and after that had passed he subjected Davos to scrutiny that made his previous attitude seem like idle attention. After watching Davos for some while, the air drowsy with dust-motes between them, he broke the silence, his voice harsh and his eyes cold. 

“If I had known you were present I would have hanged you alongside him.”

Davos nodded, feeling somehow detached from proceedings, though he dimly registered that he had probably just signed his own death-warrant. “Yes and that would have been justice too.”

“And if I were to do so now?”

“The Tyroshi merchant offered you his entire cargo and it did not change your resolve. I doubt you will exchange your honour for onions, however welcome they were.”

“You would rank stolen luxuries alongside the aid you freely gave us and brought here through such danger? I must have a greater reputation for inflexibility than I thought if you think I cannot see the difference. The Father sits in judgement upon us and it is said that only he sees clearly and acts fairly. It is for us to emulate him as far as is possible, but we can never hope to match his wisdom. I have never claimed to be more than mortal” 

Stannis leaned forward, the hardness of his features making his next words all the more incongruous. 

“I am not going to execute you Master Seaworth.”

Davos would later conclude that he must have been more fatigued than he had thought, for on hearing this, he felt only a sense of overwhelming surprise. 

“Oh.”

A grim smile briefly rested upon Stannis’ face, flickering away when it found the climate too harsh. “Would you care to sit down?”

Davos slumped into his chair, having been kept upright solely by the desire not to disgrace himself while hearing his death-sentence. 

“Of course,” Stannis added, his tone deceptively light as he poured them both a small measure of the cold, pale wine that Lord Stark had brought, pushing Davos’ cup across the table with a thin smile, “You will not go unpunished.” 

He continued, “It was recommended that I allow you to slip away with your crew, those that advised me to do so were either cowards or shrewd enough to see your potential and to fear it. I will not permit you to recommence your old life Master Seaworth. You have disdained the name your parents gave you, the land of your birth and its law. I will bind you to their service.” 

“How so?”

“Why, by making you a knight! Is that not the reward for service and are knights not the guardians of the laws?” Stannis’ mouth twisted with bleak amusement as he spoke these words. 

“You think to try and make a Ser out of a smuggler?” Davos said, incredulous. 

“It is not an idle whim!” Stannis snapped, all levity draining away. “You seem to care more for justice than for your advantage, well I will take you at your word! You have served me once in my hour of direst need, and you shall serve me again, and again. In return I will offer you that protection that you have hitherto lacked.” 

During his speech Stannis had risen and moved over to the window. In the clearer light Davos discerned a fleeting, quickly suppressed expression of pleasure on Stannis’ face, elicited by the nobility of his own sentiments. It was the first time that the other man had seemed a youth in all the months Davos had known him. This lessened the cold knot of dread that had formed in his chest as nothing else had done. 

“Not all share your notions of knighthood,” he pointed out, “it will seem to many that you are simply rewarding me, completely disregarding my previous actions.

Stannis nodded, “You must pay some further price.” He paused, “I have heard tell that in some of the free cities smugglers pay for their crimes with the loss of a hand...” Seeing Davos’ stricken face he waved his own hand impatiently, “Of course, that would make you useless to me. You can hardly swing a sword or haul a rope one-handed.” 

Stannis lapsed into thought, and Davos watched with a curious mixture of fascination and dread. He distinctly felt the skin on his hands tingling, as though they were aware of the threat that had lain upon them. 

After some time spent in thought Stannis finally spoke, his voice slow and thoughtful. “I have heard that it is common practice among smugglers to test the weight of goods they have hidden when they reclaim it, to ensure that nothing has been pilfered or secretly exchanged. It is said that the most skilled can tell the exact weight of their wares merely by testing them on the ends of their fingers. Is this true?”

“Yes.” 

Stannis nodded, his face set. “Then you shall never do so again Davos Seaworth. I will take the first joints of the fingers of your left hand. Then I will knight you with the same sword.” 

He stared at Davos from across the room, his face at once tired and terrible. “Will you accept this?”

Even years after the event, Davos never believed that he had any choice in the matter.  
“Yes, but on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“At sea, we follow the same practice as the northmen. If a captain wants a member of his crew flogged, he must swing the cat himself. You would not delegate the task of dubbing me your knight to another, I would have you swing the sword that cleaves my bone as well.” 

Stannis nodded. “That would only be right.”

Davos felt the seal of if settle around his shoulders, dimly, he was aware of Stannis making arrangements for them to sit vigil that night in the sept, evidently unwilling to delay the culmination of their agreement. To Davos this all seemed almost unnecessary, mere symbols for the outside world to gawk at. The true forging had been done in this room, all that would follow would merely confirm it. 

Stannis seemed to know this too, for he laid his hand once upon Davos’ shoulder before they left, and its grip was triumphant.


End file.
